


shaolin fantastic's a bad mother—

by lesbianbey



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: Death, Depression, Drugs mention, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, Sexual Assault Mention, This is so angsty, attempted suicide, im really sorry, it gets better...i swear, shao adopts boo boo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 23:04:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10627014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianbey/pseuds/lesbianbey
Summary: When Curtis is seven years old, he watches his first Kung Fu movie.or, a really angsty character study on shaolin fantastic.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry. I really am.

When Curtis is seven years old, he watches his first Kung Fu movie.

His parents are nowhere to be found, but that's all Curtis needs. A bowl of cereal, and some new Kung Fu movie on basic television. He's so mesmerized by the artwork, the footwork, the dedication — Curtis practices day by day to become as flawless as them, beating up bullies and defending girls from creepy dudes.

He almost drops his bowl of cereal when he learns a new move, and it involves jumping so high up in the air and kicking the opponent on the chest, knocking him down.

It's effective, because the opponent is knocked down, struggling to get up.

"You dare face yourself against the Shaolin Monk?" sticks with Curtis for a while, long enough for him to develop his alter ego...Shaolin Fantastic.

There's no need to call him Curtis, because that part of him is dead.

* * *

 

When Shaolin is eight years old, his parents are dead, but they been long dead.

It's a mysterious fire inside the building they stay at. Shaolin knows he lost his parents long ago, but this affirms it - not only is his parents dead, but his building is gone. His memories of his parents - being barely there to help him out of his clothes but at least giving him a roof to stay inside - and everything else.

Just last week, Shaolin heard from a couple friends that some guy named MLK was gunned down, and proceed to say that he was prominent in those speeches and strikes that they be watching sometimes. (Well, it's not like they have a choice. Shaolin would get immensely angry whenever the white ass news people would interrupt his Kung Fu for some riot down at Montgomery, Alabama because some old nigga wanted to change things. He's young, so he doesn't understand yet.)

His parents are dead, but they been long dead. His moms...terrible, not nurturing, and forgetful; his pops...a bum, a drug addict who rather snort coke than to give Shaolin a hug once in a while. 

With tears in his eyes, Shaolin disappears, hoping a friend will allow him to stay at their place.

* * *

 

When Shaolin is ten years old, he meets the woman that changes his life.

(Albeit in a negative way.)

Shaolin doesn't find a permanent place to stay. He's passing by, house to house, building to building, tryna find some shelter, but there's nothing. So he resorts to other ways of survival in the boogie-down: violence.

He robs a couple niggas who aren't looking, hoping they would have a couple dollars for a box of shitty dry cereal to last Shaolin throughout the week. He gets caught a couple times, but he's too fast for some middle aged Boricua nigga to chase him for his money.

Sighing, he hides behind a couple trash cans hoping that Papa Fuerte won't find him again. That's probably the last time he'll do that, considering that the ol' nigga can actually run a couple blocks. When no one shows up, he stands up again and bumps into a woman. She's wearing a fur coat, despite it being millions of degrees outside, and she's looking down at Shaolin with piqued interest.

It should creep him out, but it doesn't.

She invites him inside a club, and gives him a big plate of food, with the promise that he can stay for as long as he want.

Her name is Annie Caldwell.

* * *

 

When Shaolin is twelve years old, he buys his first spray can.

It's everywhere. It's on the side of abandoned buildings, it's on the outside and inside of the train carts, it's inside the train tunnels, it's on the seats, it's on the sidewalks…

There isn't a place that doesn't have graffiti, Shaolin notices.

He's intrigued. When he shows up at the first art store he finds, he gets a spray can...and as he exits the store, some white guy inside the store looks at him with pure disgust. "God damn graffiti bandits."

Shaolin doesn't take it to heart. Instead, he gets on the train...an empty train, and sprays. He doesn't know what he's doing, but it's artistic. He's inspired by the other taggers, who create constellations, bat signals, aliens with top hats, superheroes, supervillains. With his spray can as swords, he creates his first piece, and holy shit, it's fucking good.

Happiness runs through Shaolin for the first time since watching his first Kung Fu movie.

He calls himself Shao 007, because every tagger needs a name, and he's not gonna tag Shaolin Fantastic when he can just keep it fucking simple and keep it moving.

It's not a profession and it isn't fucking serious, but it makes Shaolin happy for like...a moment.

* * *

 

When Shaolin is thirteen years old, he's sexually assaulted.

"Who the fuck was that?" She yells at him.

Shaolin just came from tagging with his new friend who accepts him as his equal, and it's a girl. He's not interested, which is weird because some people already are talking about getting into a girl's pants, but he doesn't want that.

"Just a friend, Miss Annie."

Annie scowls deeply to address her contempt, her jealousy, and her inability to accept that Shaolin was willing to move on. She had plans for Shaolin, ever since she invited him inside Les Inferno that one day when he was on the run.

Annie had her son Clarence keep an eye on Shaolin day by day, which is how Annie knows about Shaolin's little friends. She knows about the tagging too, and she's willing to give him a proposition to make him stop.

Shaolin never understood why Annie couldn't accept his friends. He could never keep a friend for long, especially a female friend, because Annie would find out and tell him to stay away. He doesn't realize how toxic that is, not until it's too late. When it's too late, the girl either disappeared or doesn't want anything to do with Shaolin, and it affects him. He has no friends, and he doesn't go to school because he's always here.

"I mean, I'll stay away from her."

"Good." Annie grins wickedly. "Now I got an itch that I need you to scratch for me. You think you can do it?"

Shaolin is disgusted with himself thereafter, almost to the point where he wants to throw up and he skips out on dinner.

* * *

 

When Shaolin is fourteen years old, he finds a building to stay at.

It's not much, but he keeps his collection of spray cans, the money he makes pushing dope, and his food and supplies there. The water's still running, because white flight is making all the white Toby looking ass niggas to move to places like Westchester and Staten Island, especially since all the black niggas and Spanish niggas move over here to find a place to stay at.

The area is claimed by the Savage Warlords, a group of badass little niggas that Shaolin can't stand. He doesn't allow them to get to him, but if one nigga steps out of line, Shaolin will have to show them who's boss. He definitely ain't afraid to do that.

The first night, he receives some suspicious ass bites all over his body, and has to throw away the mattress because it's covered with apple seed sized bugs. He finds other abandoned apartment rooms and takes their furniture, assuring him that there are no bugs on them, and he cleans up the place, making it look like a temple.

Or, something he can call a temple.

"Oh temple my temple," Shaolin says quietly, to no one. "Protect me from harm…"

* * *

 

At fifteen years old, he meets Flash and becomes a record boy.

Flash introduces Shaolin to the Get Down, which takes boring ass disco records and makes them sound better, and there's a crowd dancing to it. There's nothing but solidarity, unity, and happiness, which is ten times better than the shit he does with Fat Annie.

When Shaolin becomes a record boy, he collects records from Cadillac's collection, or from the Jamaican (which is relatively safer because Cadillac once almost shot Shaolin on the arm for stealing records) just so Flash can have his party. It's so interesting to watch. It's almost like tagging, but with music. Flash maps out the Get Down part, and it plays over and over again while he switches records and makes the boring disco sound good.

Flash tells him about the kingdoms, who are his rivals, but who are also good people. Flash connects his DJing with the Kung Fu that Shaolin is so intrigued by, which is why Shaolin looks at Flash as not only as a father figure (even if Flash is only a few years ahead) but as a mentor. It's something Shaolin never had.

"One day I will teach you how to DJ. But first...you gotta prove to me that you can dedicate yourself to the music."

Shaolin nods his head, hoping that one day, one fucking day, he will prove to Flash just how dedicated he is. But with his tagging and his shit with Fat Annie, now isn't the time.

Despite that fact, he starts collecting records for a lifetime supply, just so he can be that DJ.

* * *

 

When Shaolin is seventeen years old, he meets Ezekiel Figuero.

In order to learn how to DJ, Shaolin must do two things.

One, get the "Far, Far Away" Pakoussa Remix record. That, in itself, is fucking hard because it's so rare that only fifty copies were ever sold. However he hears around that the Jamaican spot has it, and he's already a frequent over there. The Far, Far Away record is a masterpiece, and it's the only record Shaolin will listen to in its entirety, so of course he's dedicated to finding that record.

Two, find a wordsmith, an MC...master of ceremonies. This, he found in a little half black, half Rican nigga with his head in the clouds and screams about his butterscotch queen. Yeah, he's seen this nigga before, after a wild chase with the Savage Warlords. He loses the record to the nigga, but when he stared down at him, he almost forgets his mission. He's...wow. Shaolin has never felt some type of way about some kid, especially another nigga. But he runs away the same way that he came...with the record.

Shit. He will see that nigga again.

When he does, he expects to end Ezekiel Figuero's life for good over a fucking record, but he opens his mouth, and Shao's in awe.

After some bloody, yet interesting hi-jinks, their partnership begins.

* * *

 

When Shaolin is eighteen years old, he loses everything.

Shaolin knows this was all Fat Annie's doing. After he finally breaks away from the abusive bitch, karma rears its ugly head, and it takes Miles Kipling to fucking jail, and it makes Zeke so mad that their friendship - their partnership - is over.

Shaolin returns to Fat Annie with hesitation, hoping (and promising) that she will never get the chance to touch any of his former Get Down Brothers. They may hate him, but he wants no more blood on his hands. He's already ruined their lives. He keeps holding Zeke back from going to college, and he puts Boo Boo on just so the little nigga won't go to an even crazier nigga.

It's been a couple months though, and no one will talk to him. Cadillac is off being a manager, full time, at his record company, and despite hating the nigga, at least Cadillac understood some things about him and Fat Annie. Wolf been dead for a minute, to be disposed like a piece of garbage. Napoleon ran away before Fat Annie burned down Shaolin's second temple, in the same fucking way that his first temple burned down, and his house burned down taking his parents with him. Neither Ra nor Dizzee would look at him. Boo stayed in juvie for a couple months until he turned sixteen, and then he was sent to big boy jail, which is immensely worse than a juvenile hall.

It's all his fault, and he doesn't wanna fucking live anymore.

* * *

 

When Shaolin is twenty years old, he's so depressed that he makes a decision.

It's not even a bad day. It was a good day. The sun's out, everyone looks happy, Annie didn't bother him too much today - but that was it. He doesn't wanna spin anymore, he's tired of slinging dope, he has no family or friends...he has nothing and no one.

Last year, he starts getting nightmares about Fat Annie going against his word and killing the former Get Down Brothers. Another dream is Mylene laughing at him, telling him everything Zeke told him for the last time. Another one was a result of the sexual assault Annie's been doing to him for years, and those are the dreams that finds Shaolin awake at night, his head inside a toilet, throwing up whatever little bit of food he had for the day.

They gradually get worse and worse until it sends Shaolin deeper into the depression he didn't know he had.

It's terrible, and it speaks to him daily, almost like a mantra, and he's tired. He finds an opportunity, on top of Les Inferno, and he pretends to jump over buildings like he used to and falls. His fall is broken however, by some half black, half Rican nigga, who shouts and cries, hoping that his former partner didn't actually stop breathing on his way down.

When Shaolin wakes up, he can't recognize his surroundings but he does recognize an arm around him. No...no no no no. This can't be. He was supposed to be somewhere free, away from Annie and away from Books and the disco duck and Ra and Boo and Dizz and everyone else that was prominent in his life, whether positive or negative. Even death he can't do right.

When Shaolin tries to remove the arm away from his waist, he hears a raspy "don't even think about it."

Shaolin sucks his teeth, and gets up anyway. "Don't even think about what, Books? Because surely, you ain't telling me to not think about leaving your bitch ass here."

Zeke fights back tears again, and Shaolin doesn't say anything else. "Please...don't—"

"Don't what? You know what? How about you stay the fuck away from me, huh? How's about you keep your fucking distance, huh? Isn't that what your fucking disco bitch would have wanted, for me to die? And you…you told me to stay away from you! Why would you come back? Haven't I ruined your life already?"

"You didn't ruin my life!" Zeke argues, but Shaolin's already out of his apartment. "Shao!" He keeps running, hoping to get as far away from Zeke Figuero as possible. He doesn't need another chance to ruin his life again.

* * *

 

When Shaolin is twenty one years old, he finally gets his chance to be free.

After getting far away from his former partner, he doesn't try again. He doesn't do it not because of whatever Zeke Figuero told him. He doesn't do it because despite his depression, maybe there's something preventing him to take that step.

He sighs and finishes his round, only for to find the club up in flames. There's no indication that Annie is anywhere outside the building, and only a gathering of nearby club goers are watching, slack jawed, wondering how did this happen. Shaolin should feel some type of way, but unlike his temples and his old apartment where his parents perished to death, he feels nothing.

If he stays any longer, he might just walk in and join Annie, so he turns around, with the little cash he made from pushing dope and hopes to find a place away from the Bronx. He hears that there are a couple places in Jamaica though...

* * *

 

When Shaolin is twenty two years old, he's slowly moving on but someone from his past comes back.

Zeke Figuero graduates from college and returns back to the Bronx as a Yale graduate. Mylene Cruz returns to the Bronx, with number one singles and an album that sells sells sells. Shaolin doesn't give two shits, however, because he hates Mylene Cruz and he keeps his promise to stay away from Zeke. He's in Queens anyway, keeping a low profile and making sure he keeps the illusion that he's dead amongst the people of the Bronx. He barely goes by Shaolin Fantastic, but he keeps the name in his memories because Curtis has been dead since he was seven.

However, Curtis has a job, a car, and an average joe life.

He starts seeing someone for his nightmares and depression, and it helps.

He listens to Rapper's Delight and his other rap records over and over again, and wishes that he did make that record. Nonetheless, hip hop (which is really The Get Down but Rapper's Delight rebrands it and he isn't complaining) is alive, and disco is dead.

He would laugh because that means the praline queen Mylene Cruz won't make another shitty disco record...and if she does, it will be a flop. But...he can't.

However he hears someone's getting out of prison. He isn't sure if he should overstep his boundaries, but he's already driving over there and he picks up a twenty year old Miles Kipling from Rikers Island, and despite being hardened for a little while, there's nothing but smiles, hugs, and happiness. He's the only Kipling who doesn't have a grudge on him, only because he hasn't seen neither Ra nor Dizzee in years but also because Miles knew that things would happen if he did push dope so he takes full responsibility.

"I don't wanna go back there."

"I'm sure you don't—"

"No, not back in prison, even though that's a given. I meant back to the Bronx."

Shaolin hears him out, but he isn't sure if he should allow Boo to stay with him. He already overstepped by picking him up. "What about your mom and dad?"

"They never visited me when I was locked up. Zeke came once, and that was it. Never got any visitors who were frequent...not like you. Plus..I'm sure they don't really want me back there. When I got arrested, they were really mad, and I didn't want them to be disappointed anymore."

"A'ight," Shaolin says, turning the car over to his permanent residence in Queens.

Boo just smiles. "Thanks Shao."

* * *

 

Pushing twenty three, Shaolin meets Ezekiel Figuero all over again.

(And it's fucking celestial.)

He has no reason to be at the Bronx. No, he does. Boo Boo wanted to see his parents since they've been working on developing a relationship again, and Shaolin stays behind because Queens is fucking far and the Bronx Whitestone is fucking hell and Boo doesn't like the train, and Shaolin doesn't blame him one bit.

He sits on top of his car, staring at the cigarette in his hands as it burns away, and waits a couple blocks away from the Kipling hair salons, mostly because the last time he parked in front of their house, Yolanda Kipling threatened to kill him on the spot for the shit he's put the family through. If Shaolin wasn't above hitting a girl, he would've, but no. He drives away and tells Boo to meet him a couple blocks away.

But definitely not before Ra yells at him, and Dizzee telling him to shut the fuck up and fuck off. He eventually learns to let them go.

He notices a recognizable half black, half Rican nigga walking down the street but he says nothing. It could be anyone. However, the nigga recognizes him.

"Shao."

Knowing he can't stay mad at Zeke forever, he only smiles at Zeke. "'Sup Books?"

"I thought you were still mad at me for a moment." Zeke sits next to Shaolin on top of the car. Shaolin notices that there are a lot of changes since the last time he saw Zeke. He never noticed how curly his hair is, or how good he looks with facial hair, or how drastic the eighties fashion is compared to the last decade… "I asked Ra where you were and...he's still mad so he didn't say anything nice. I also asked Dizz, but he's mad too."

"No disrespect, Books, but I don't really care anymore," Shaolin admits. "The happiest I've ever been was letting go of the Bronx's messed up shit, and letting go of y'all niggas, so I honestly don't care if they're mad at me or if your butterscotch queen wants me dead or whatever the fuck."

Zeke doesn't say anything about it. "I've been offered a record deal."

"I always knew you'd make it," Shaolin replies, smiling.

"I just wanted to thank you for helping me realize what I can do. When my tía, my ex, basically everyone else told me I was wasting my time, you were the only one who actually stayed by my side, and yeah, i'm sorry if I ever broke your heart, but I will never be ungrateful for the opportunity you gave me."

"I thought I ruined your life."

"If you would have stayed behind those couple years ago, I would've explained it to you."

"I was in a dark place, Zeke." Shaolin throws away the bit of cigarette he has left. "I honestly didn't want to stay there any longer."

"I know you were. But...you didn't ruin my life. Sure, you had your issues but you never ruined my life, Shao. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have the confidence to take an internship. I wouldn't have went to college, I wouldn't be the person that I am right now. I surely wouldn't receive a record deal. Ever since I met you, my life changed. For better or for worse, but I would never take back any of the shit that has happened."

Shaolin only grins, feeling even more happy than he feels lately. "Thanks, Books."

"No problem, Shaolin Fantastic."

Boo appears, and after a couple of pleasantries, Shaolin's ready to go back home, but Zeke stops him. "Hey, I was wondering...if it's not too much trouble, maybe you can stop by at the recording studio and watch me make my album. Only if you want to of course."

"Are you asking me out, Books?"

Zeke's face gets red. "Maybe."

"A'ight Books, we'll see." Shaolin drives off, with an unsuspecting Boo looking out the window, and with a grin on his face.


End file.
